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The thought of him saying he would fuck me the way he did sends a shiver of arousal through my body. It’s exactly what I think about when I touch myself in the shower—me and him, a sweaty, tangled, panting mess.
“Let’s not talk about my woman and you can explain why you’re here.”
My eyes widen to saucers. Did he really just call me his? This man has barely touched me at all and he’s claiming me to be his woman. I was starting to think I imagined the whole encounter in his kitchen, but I know that’s what he just said.
Maybe it’s just for show and that’s why no one has tried to take me back to the clubhouse. Everyone thinks I’m his woman and he knows this would somehow protect me.
“Yeah, sorry, boss,” Rafael says as I toy with my food, listening more intently than before. “Browning has scheduled a meeting for tomorrow night. All patched members must attend, even the girls.” Girls as in patched girl members or the club girls? I didn’t think girls could get patched.
“The girls are always there,” Xander mutters in aggravation.
“No, man. He made it clear he wantsyourgirl there.”
All of the blood drains from my body, fear creeping in.
“What?” Xander snaps, but doesn’t raise his voice. “Like hell I’m taking her—“
“Gunner, he didn’t leave room for argument. You know him. You know if she’s not there, he’ll come get her himself, and probably rough her up in retaliation. You didn’t show up for the meeting this morning. This is his way of getting back at you. You have to do this or she’ll pay the price.”
“I told him before he made me VP that I won’t go to meetings on Fridays. It’s my one day off from working at the shop. He sets the schedule there, too.” He sounds so unbelievably frustrated. It pulls at my heart.
I get out of bed and walk over to the door before saying the words I hope I won’t regret. “I’ll go.”
CHAPTER7
LAURA
My hands shake as I pull on my shorts and white t-shirt before adding the plain black leather vest. I would’ve opted for my baggie sweatpants and sweatshirt but when I suggested it, Xander shook his head at me in exasperation.
He swore to me that no one will mess with me, that he won’t let me out of his sight, and to relax or others will know I’m freaked out.
I shake away my nerves as I step out of the bedroom, ready to take on a clubhouse full of unruly, asshole bikers. Xander sits in his spot on the couch, clicking through the channels on the TV like it’s second nature.
“Aren’t we supposed to be leaving now?” I ask, but he doesn’t get up.
“Sit down, darling,” he demands in a gruff voice, not looking at me. He drops his cigarette butt in the soda can on top of the make-shift coffee table before patting the seat next to him.
“Seriously?” I groan, and plop down on the couch. I just want to get this over with so I can go back to pretending that I’m not a piece of property to this stupid gang. Sure, they’d hate it if they heard me call them a gang, but they’re a bunch of thugs. Even Xander, but he’s a nice thug, if there’s such a thing. He cares about basic human rights or at least he cares about mine. That’s a positive in my book.
“You need to relax. You can’t go in there all full of nerves or everyone, even the girls, will eat you alive. They’ll never respect you if you do that. You need to show strength,” he explains as he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a rolled up joint.
At first, the smell of cigarettes and weed made me want to gag, but I’ve adjusted to it. I’m constantly surrounded by it when Xander is here and I’ve almost become nose blind to the smell.
“How do you suggest I do that?” I ask, holding in the urge to roll my eyes at him. This is ridiculous. I can’t relax.
He holds up the joint before putting it to his lips, lighting it. “Not much. One hit should be enough.”
I gape at the joint as the smoke falls out of his lips before he blows out a cloud of the thick, slate gray air. “You-you want me to smokethat?” I ask, completely baffled by his suggestion.
He laughs. “It’s just weed. I’m not trying to turn you. Just relax you.”
I cautiously take the joint from him and balance it between my fingers, nervousness escalating in my system. “What do you mean by turn me? What’s that?” I ask, avoiding taking a drag on the joint.
He frowns intensely before rubbing his hand down his face. “It’s the process of making someone into what we call a house mouse, basically a prostitute within the organization. It’s a way of forcing an addiction. Drugs, alcohol, sex, parties. Once an addiction is formed, it’s used to control the girl. If she acts up or tries to run away, she’s punished by taking away the thing she’s addicted to. If that doesn’t work…she’s sent away to the sex trade where she’ll suffer a fate much worse than the Black Stallions could deliver, which is saying a lot.” I gulp as my face turns pale, a cold mist covering my skin.
“Browning wanted you to do that to me?” I ask before I bite the bullet, putting the joint to my lips and sucking in the smoke. My lungs and esophagus are engulfed in flames so unbearable that the coughing fit that ensues seems endless. The burning in my throat lasts longer than the cough. Reaching over, Xander gently pats my back.
“Wow. I haven’t seen someone hack up a lung like that since I was a kid,” he jokes as I hold my hand over my mouth to stop from vomiting. “Did it go down the wrong pipe?”
